


After Hours

by Morteamore



Series: The Ties That Bind [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Leather, Light BDSM, M/M, Piercings, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Hugo Vasquez invites Rhys to his office for an impromptu meeting after work hours. What unfolds is nothing like what Rhys could've imagined.





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an unpublished AU universe where Rhys is working on publishing an indy game in his spare time and Vasquez is his development partner. 
> 
> Illustrated by the wonderful Blown-Ego. Art can be found [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/1260c3a944eb08f75cc34be49f43fa3c/tumblr_pidmy281OX1uf6aj1o1_540.png) (NSFW)

With nothing to accompany the clack of his footfalls but a jumble of stray thoughts, Rhys made his way down the corridor. It was just coming upon true night, some hours after the work day had ended, and Helios’ business sectors were tamed by a lull in activity. The only person Rhys had passed so far was a lone janitor muttering at a trace of unidentifiable carnage smeared across the floor alloy, and that was a few hallways back. Those telltale signs, and the fact that Rhys was well-acclimated to the space station’s clock at this point in his life, were the only indications of how late it was. To anyone else, the inky darkness beyond the viewports peppered by the glowing embers of celestial bodies was disorienting, distorting sense of time and knocking reasonable assumptions of the hour askew. 

It was not contemplations of how residing in space could screw with perception of time on Rhys’ mind, though. The concepts stewing in his brain were of a much more focused nature, centered around what exactly he was doing accepting a private invitation to someone’s office after hours that he’d received at random; a work rival’s office no less, though he admitted that his and Vasquez’s jockeying for position had come to an amicable enough end when Hugo had landed their old boss Henderson’s position. As much as Rhys had been salivating for the promotion early in his career, the flames of desire had ebbed over time as he became more invested in his personal game project. Working for one of the galaxy’s most powerful corporations and making an income that could ignite raging envy sounded great and all. Getting to do something he was impassioned about and make money off of it while still raking in a good salary was even more rewarding, though. Besides, he’d taken Vasquez’s vacated position, which had turned out to grant him a better office and pay cut. Things had worked out in everyone’s favor, and he didn’t have to worry about sacrificing his personal endeavors.

In a strange twist of fate, Vasquez’s rivalry with Rhys had eventually morphed into a business partnership. He’d been one of the first to answer the younger man’s call for assistance with his game’s development, becoming a pillar of the project’s team. Which was nothing to take lightly, as said team only consisted of one other person, which was Rhys himself. If not for the other man’s expertise and dependable work ethic, Rhys would be dangerously close to taking on more than he could handle and burning himself out. 

So he guessed that’s why he hadn’t reconsidered the request to meet Vasquez at a questionable time at an atypical place. Not that an office was that bizarre of a place for a meeting. Just that it was more suited to the work day, while night was reserved to, say, a bar setting or even one’s place of residence. Somewhere where they could kick back, enjoy a drink, and discuss things in a more leisurely setting. 

Unless this meeting concerned sensitive and dire subjects. If that was the case, then maybe he shouldn’t be feeling so casual about it. 

That train of thought set Rhys on edge, made anxiety spike in his blood like he’d just downed an entire cup of espresso in one swallow. Once he was trapped in the mental snare of Vasquez possibly delivering ill omens, he couldn’t get out of it for the rest of the trek. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead as he reached the office hatchway. Standing before it, he tried composing himself once more, unable to transcend the warmth that seemed to engulf his body. His mind attempted to make him believe that he was sweating profusely from it, that his clothes were clinging to his skin. He wrenched at his collar and took several deep breaths, the hatch sliding open before he was ready and startling him. It was several more moments before he could bring himself to cross the threshold. Though he tried to carry himself as nonchalantly as possible, his footsteps still came off deliberate and stiff. 

“Rhys.”

The silence in the room was brushed aside by the word, which was said in a smooth, lilting tone that demanded his attention. 

“I should have expected that you of all people would be punctual. Please, have a seat.”

Rhys didn’t know how to take the remark, deciding to remain neutral as he reached the desk in the center of the office and sunk into one of the ergonomic chairs provided on the visitor’s side. Despite his attempts to calm down, there was something coursing through the air that was charged; something that he couldn’t overcome with mere will power. It sent him fidgeting as he tried to decipher why he was so agitated, failed and resigned himself to looking around until his eyes fell on the figure standing before the room’s only viewport. Even though their back was turned to him, their broad frame was more than familiar.

Too stressed for formalities, Rhys’ voice was more clipped than he meant it to be.

“What’s going on, Hugo?” Clearing his throat, Rhys tried again, this time willing himself to act more casual. “I mean, you’ve never asked me to meet you here before, especially this late after work.”

Without answering, Vasquez turned and made his way across the room, his gaze falling upon Rhys and never wavering. Instead of taking his own seat, he shuffled into the space between where Rhys sat and the desk, shifting up on to the metal furniture so that he was semi-perched upon it.

“Something important regarding your...knowledge, or lack of it, has been eating at me.” Voice low, Vasquez’s words were languid, lazy even, rolling off his tongue as if each one bore equal importance. “It hasn’t sat right with me since we discussed it.”

Brow furrowing, Rhys’ thoughts were swept up in a plague of confusion at Vasquez’s cryptic words. Shifting in his seat, he rubbed at the back of his neck with his cybernetic hand. 

“Uhm, and that is?” he asked. 

Vasquez took a deep breath, expelling the air in a noisy rush as if exasperated. Rhys expected him to cluck his tongue or make some other chastising gesture, so dramatic was the reaction.

“And here I expected your powers of deduction to be a little sharper. I guess it hardly matters. After all, the purpose of this arrangement is for me to give you a quick and dirty taste of things.”

The statement only served to deepen Rhys’ inability to fathom what was going on. His mind shuffled through a handful of explanations regarding the scenario, coming up blank each time. If Vasquez didn’t start making sense, he was going to spiral into frustration and lay down the snark. 

“I see you seem at a loss there, Rhys,” Vasquez went on. “Considering my intentions weren’t for obfuscation purposes, maybe I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Let me attempt to clear the air.”

“Yeah, that’d be appreciated.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, Vasquez stood upright, his fingers fumbling with the button keeping his suit coat closed. With his attention drawn to the man’s hands, it was the first time Rhys noticed that they were clad in black, the right adorned in a leather glove studded with glinting metal at the knuckles. Where he expected to see a matching glove on the left, it was merely wrapped to mid-palm in similar material, fingers exposed. The asymmetry struck him as odd. Vasquez was nothing but impeccable about his appearance, and such a blatant defiance of convention wasn’t attuned with his character. 

Folding the suit jacket and placing it on the desk, Vasquez didn’t stop with that single article of clothing. He wasted no time in removing his tie and working at his collared shirt. As comfortable and familiar as Rhys was with his co-worker, he’d never considered they’d ever become intimate. 

“This...this isn’t what I was expecting,” he found himself saying. The grin he attempted was lopsided.

Vasquez met it with a smirk, his eyelids slipping to half-mast. 

“I’m not sure how good your recall is, but we had a discussion once.” Something bulged beneath Vasquez’s shirt, irregular in shape and patterned in a way that made the fabric crease unnaturally. “It was when you’d first asked me to suggest any ground you hadn’t thought of covering in your game project. There were plenty of things, but one thing really stood out to me. It was something you’d avoided because of your ignorance on the subject.”

“Which would be…?”

There was no reply given. Once Vasquez had loosened the last button of his shirt, he slid it off, revealing the accessory he wore over his chest. Designed in such a way that four straps in an ‘X’ motif connected to a metal o-ring in the center, the leather harness fit flush to Vasquez’s skin, framing pectorals dusted in smooth, dark hair. Golden hoops hung from his nipples, gleaming as if freshly polished, and his biceps were encircled with matching armbands, one fitted with metal studs, the other splashed in Hyperion colors with the signature ‘H’ logo stitched in. Rhys considered the latter a gaudy choice for the ensemble his co-worker was going for, but also wasn’t surprised. There probably wasn’t a whole lot of variety for leatherware on Helios, and of course Hyperion would control distribution of what little there was and slap their brand on it. One could just buy from an outside source, if they preferred, but then they wouldn’t be privy to a sweet employee discount.

Before Rhys could say anything, Vasquez slid something off the surface of the desk and hefted it in both hands. It didn’t take long for the younger man to recognize what it was. He was familiar with Hyperion’s non-lethal weapons, and the sleek, black assault baton was no exception. Every Hyperion guard carried one, the handle jutting out from near the flared tail almost spherical at the end for easy gripping. With the outfit Vasquez was wearing, though, it made it look like some bizarre and inadequately designed sex toy.

“Anything coming to mind, Rhys?”

Eyes scanning the other man’s semi-nude torso, Rhys realized that his pants weren’t a simple pair of tight black dress slacks, as he’d initially figured. Clinging to his legs like a second skin, the shiny leather looked supple, the deep creases around the snug crotch hard to ignore. Rhys wrenched his gaze away before Vasquez got the wrong idea. He was still unsure of what was going on, and he didn’t want to initiate anything that he didn’t have an explicit understanding of. Acting on impulse wasn’t his style. Even if his curiosity was piqued on a level akin to a feline’s, things always worked out best when they were planned out. And this situation was as far from having been planned as it could get.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rhys heaved his shoulders.

“I dunno, Hugo. It just looks to me like you’re dressed up to go to some freaky sex club.”

“Is that really the only thing you could come up with?” Shaking his head, Vasquez maneuvered the front end of his baton under Rhys’ chin, applying pressure until the man’s head was tilted up towards him. “I think that’s the last time I allow you to call me by my name. For the rest of the night, you’ll address me as sir.”

“What?” Rhys uncrossed his arms, gripping the sides of the chair. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack, Rhys. In order for this to be a fully immersive experience that you actually gain an understanding from, you’re going to have to play by my rules.” Sliding the baton away, Vasquez nonchalantly jabbed it between Rhys’ knees and used it to wedge them apart. When there was enough of a gap, he placed his booted foot on the edge of the seat between them. “All of them.”

Though there was a general look of concern on Rhys’ face, something else was etched there, flowing beneath the surface. His eyes, wide and unblinking, glistened with it, pupils dilated.

“Ok,” he said after a few moments, voice quiet but confident. “I’ll bite. Tell me the rules…sir.”

One corner of his mouth twitching, Vasquez nodded. “And here I thought it would take you a little longer to catch on. I guess I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

“It would be nice if you didn’t.”

“Well, maybe I spoke too soon. You obviously still need some discipline in the verbal run-off department.” Before Rhys could open his mouth again, he was sushed. Though he didn’t look particularly ecstatic about it, he chose to remain compliant, fidgeting in his seat instead. “Which is why, unless necessary, I’d like you to stay quiet unless spoken too. Now, are you familiar with the stoplight method?” The other man gave a shake of his head, Vasquez launching into an explanation. “It’s a safeword system. Easy enough to use. If I ask, you give me one of three colors. Red means we end things, no questions asked. Yellow is for when you’re feeling or close to uncomfortable. We take a break from our activities, or make some adjustments. Green, of course, is self-explanatory. If you’re feeling distressed at any time and need to use one of those, just say it so I can hear you. Don’t wait for me to ask. I can typically read people well, but I’m not telepathic.” 

While Vasquez spoke, Rhys could feel the air around him getting warmer, the soft tissue of his throat and mouth growing raw with dryness. By the time the other man had finished, he was sure his own blood pressure was elevated. Equal parts nervousness and anticipation clashed within him, seeping into his gut. 

“I hope you got all that,” Vasquez said. After a moment, he reached down and wove his fingers through the younger man’s hair, which was riddled with product but still pliable and soft. “If I have to repeat myself, I’m going to have to take disciplinary action. You’re supposed to be focused on me, after all.”

Resisting the urge to swat Vasquez’s hand away from his meticulous hairdo (which he’d be far more concerned with if the day wasn’t over), Rhys skirted his tongue over his lip.

“It’s not like it’s hard to understand, Hu- sir.”

“Talking out of turn already?”

“I was trying to―”

Vasquez’s gloved hand smoothed down Rhys’ cheek before giving it a few pats. He then drew away, foot sliding back down to the floor, back straightening until he was standing at full height.

“Stand up,” he deadpanned.

At first, Rhys just blinked, as if he hadn’t processed the simple command. Then he gave a quiet sigh and pushed himself up, gaze steadying on the man before him as he awaited what was to come next. Vasquez didn’t leave him hanging long. Setting aside his baton, his palms came to rest upon Rhys’ shoulders, massaging the area before moving to the buttons of his shirt and making short work of them. Soon the younger man was topless, his shirt tossed to his feet, Vasquez’s finger tracing gingerly over the blue ink curving and stretching across his chest.

“I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to have such an impressive tattoo. I bet it hurt.”

Deciding against speaking, Rhys nodded.

“Don’t worry. Nothing I plan to do to you will reach that kind of level of pain. However.” A rush of raspy breath from Rhys filled the air as Vasquez latched on to his nipples and gave hard, sudden tugs. “I’m not above inflicting some minor discomfort.” 

Squirming like a prize catch on a razored hook, Rhys looked inconvenienced, but wasn’t making any attempts to break away. A shudder passed through the younger man when he was let go, nostrils flaring as one of Vasquez’s hands roamed to his belt buckle. He wanted to say something, but held his tongue, expression expectant as his pants were worked open and a leather-wrapped palm smoothed over the front of his striped boxers. 

“I didn’t bring any equipment with me, this being your first time and all. But I’ve always been good at improvising.” Continuing to massage Rhys, Vasquez momentarily twisted his fingers, grasping the other man’s length in a tight grip. Rhys grunted and reached out for him, blunt fingernails digging into skin as he found purchase. 

“No touching without permission.”

“S-sorry.”

He was given a stern look.

“I mean, sorry, sir?”

That was apparently satisfactory, as he was met with another squeeze of his groin. But then Vasquez pulled away, going around the desk to lower himself into his wing-backed roller chair. Its dark, expensive material, outlined in hints of gold, looked cushiony and inviting. When Vasquez patted his lap and beckoned him over, Rhys complied without much hesitation. As soon as he was close enough, an arm wound around his waist, drawing him in until he was perched upon a leather thigh. Warm breath ghosted against his face as Vasquez moved his head in close. Any remaining space between them was obliterated as the other man’s lips descended on his own.

Though the fact that it was Vasquez kissing him was a bit hard to grasp, this was more familiar territory to Rhys, and he was able to relax and go with it. Prickly bristles poked at him as the man’s beard brushed his skin; not an entirely unpleasant feeling. Tongue probing at his lips, Rhys parted them without resistance, sinking even more into the sensation as Vasquez’s mouth invaded his own. Even though the action was somewhat subdued, Rhys could feel the passion building between them, exacerbated by the fact there was once again a hand groping him between the legs. Cool air against heated flesh made him shiver, Vasquez apparently having drawn his cock out through the gap in his boxers, leather gliding in soft, unbroken strokes against his shaft as the man jerked him to hardness. With how quickly things were escalating, Rhys figured he should feel embarrassed. Maybe the lack of time to adjust was working to his advantage, though. Without a chance to dwell on what was happening, he was forced to take the experience at face value, rolling with the curves out of raw instinct. 

So when Vasquez suddenly pulled away, Rhys was drawn out of his revelry. Dazed, taking a moment to catch his breath, he almost didn’t realize the other man was speaking to him. 

“I may have lied about not having any equipment.” Vasquez held something in his hand, apparently having taken it out of the desk, if the open drawer was anything to go by. “I do tend to keep one or two toys lying around here. Just in case something comes up.” 

There wasn’t much time for Rhys to ponder what Vasquez was planning before he felt something being secured around his cock. With a glance down, he was puzzled by the device encircling his rigid shaft, which looked like a cock ring with a horizontal, cylindrical protrusion on the underside. 

“Time to check in with me, Rhys. Give me a color.”

Swallowing, the younger man took a moment to assess the state of his being. They hadn’t done anything he considered strenuous yet, and despite this new turn of events, he wasn’t too concerned. 

“Green.”

There was a nod from Vasquez. He reached for the device secured to the company man, fiddling with it a moment.

A sharp gasp escaped Rhys as what felt like a miniature bolt of lightning shot through his dick. Body twisting, Vasquez had to steady him to keep him from sliding off his lap. Muscles in the younger man’s neck strained, standing out against his skin in stark lines. The gasp became a low groan, his toes curling in his boots, head of his cock growing slick with beads of pre-cum. Ensconced in the waves of pleasure that the device pulsed through his lower half, he didn’t realize his body was being maneuvered into a different position. Not until his torso was laid out across Vasquez’s legs, pants tugged down to just below his ass along with the back of his boxers, did he notice. With his cock pressed against his stomach, the vibrations seemed to intensify with the pressure, thrumming deep in his core.

Pain, sharp and concentrated, seized Rhys’ muscles, pulling them taut and arching his spine. The yelp that escaped him was as concise as the feeling, but the stinging lingered as if embedded in the flesh of his ass. There was some effort from Vasquez to ease the discomfort, fingers gliding over the spot in soothing patterns. Then his palm struck again, the crack of leather-encased skin colliding with bare audible this time. Rhys let out another curt noise, not quite as taken off guard this time, but still smarting nonetheless. 

By the third strike, Rhys was drawing the sound out, dangling it over the precipice of a moan but drawing back before it tumbled over. By the fifth, his breathing had grown into soft panting. As far as he remembered, he’d never been spanked before, nor had he experienced anything harsher than a hickey during sexual encounters. This, however, seemed to be strumming the right notes deep within the crevices of his mind, where clandestine desires appeared to be laying dormant. It helped that every impact seemed to intensify the buzzing against his cock as it was sandwiched against Vasquez’s legs. 

A hand embedded in Rhys’ hair, churning it into a raging sea, tugging at certain intervals. It should have been annoying, but it wasn’t hard enough to really hurt, the little jerks of fingers as they snared in the strands satisfying on a level that defied explanation, especially when the tingling remained crawling up his scalp after the act. He could see how this could be enjoyable, even desired, being held captive in the vice of someone else’s whims. On the surface, it seemed rough and chaotic, equivalent to throwing oneself into a firefight without any experience handling firearms and expecting to turn out the victor. The truth was closer to programming computer code, everything having to fall into place just right, adjusted until its structure was sound. Elements were gradually introduced, seemingly at random at first, until they were executed and their purpose was revealed.

As if mimicking his thoughts, another slap thwacked against Rhys’ ass. Whimpering a couple times, as his skin had grown quite raw and reddened with welts, he expected a consecutive blow to follow. When none came, he lifted his head, straining to see what Vasquez was up to. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the man opening some kind of packet. 

“Color?” he was suddenly asked.

Rhys swallowed, closing his eyes a moment, cock twitching as he was left with nothing to distract him from the powerful vibrations there. 

“Green,” he said after a long pause.

There was a thoughtful hum from Vasquez.

“You’re not just saying that, are you, Rhys? You took your time answering.”

“Ah, I...sorry, sir. I needed a chance to collect my thoughts.”

“I see. Well, you’re doing great so far.” A few heavy pats landed on the younger man’s head. “Good boy.”

Feeding off the praise, Rhys settled into a comfortable mindset. Adjusting the stance of his feet, as the faint edges of discomfort from being stretched out too long were beginning to stir in his calves, he made a sound that was mostly sigh.

“Thank you, sir.”

That’s when it all came crashing down. 

Eyes springing wide, Rhys gasped hard as something warm and slick prodded against his entrance. Where he expected it to be a mere tease, it kept inching forward, sliding in without much resistance. Surprise unfurled gradually into familiarity, as Rhys wasn’t exactly inexperienced when it came to these matters. In turn, that became pleasure, a kind that started dull and centralized in one area then swelled to encompass more and more of him. It was like having some euphoric chemical injected straight into his bloodstream, the components molding and shaping his reactions. Guttural, involuntary groans escaped him, Vasquez finding a rhythm with his finger, going deeper with every thrust. A second digit was added, the moments of discomfort in which Rhys had to adjust passing quickly. Once they had, he was able to focus on how the fingers were crooking inside him, seeking out the hidden crevice deep within that held a wealth of pleasure just waiting to be reaped. If Vasquez could just reach it, scratch the proverbial itch, then it would be all the sweeter. 

But the other man kept his touch coy, barely brushing the structure, never lingering long even when he did. Such expert manipulation made Rhys’ temperature seem to boil. Too warm in his own skin, even though he was mostly naked, he half expected himself to be drenched in sweat. His body, however, remained dry, albeit flushed bright pink. 

Maybe Rhys was fidgeting too much, or making more noise than he realized. Whatever the case, Vasquez’s responses appeared to become born of some intrinsic knowledge. He knew exactly what to do to please the younger man, including adding yet another finger to the fray. It only served to make Rhys come undone quicker. As the fingers spread wide inside him, the world fell away entirely, leaving him unraveling with it. It was just him and Vasquez, and he was swiftly losing his sense of self to far more base instincts. Soon he’d be reduced to nothing but bestial grunts and primal reflexes. 

Before that could happen, though, Rhys was forced back to a sound awareness of himself by Vasquez withdrawing. It was so abrupt that his brain flatlined, taking its sweet ass time to revive itself. Manhandled once more, Vasquez dragged him to his feet, clearing the stuff on his desk to the side with a sweep of one arm. The baton he’d set there clattered to the ground, the man not bothering to retrieve it as he pushed Rhys on to his back against the flat surface. The metal was cool to the touch, calming in a distant way. Just when Rhys felt he was getting clear-headed, a powerful feeling in his groin coiled in on itself, reminding him that there was still a vibrating device attached to his cock. That and the fact Vasquez made quick work of the rest of his clothing, letting them fall to the floor, kept his state of mind elevated. He watched as the other man undid his pants, the stiff, hefty flesh of his cock free and spilling forth, head swollen and glistening. Sucking in a breath, Rhys felt his lips part slightly and his stomach flutter. Never had he met someone of the man’s length and girth, nor had anything of that size been inside him. He didn’t know how all of it was going to fit without discomfort, and the golden hoop of the Prince Albert piercing the man sported just added to that fact. 

Still, Rhys couldn’t deny the latent eagerness that tugged at the very fabric of his being. Even when he watched Vasquez open another one of those packets from earlier, spreading the substance inside along his shaft, working it in with a few quick strokes, he could feel his psyche quivering with anticipation. This was just a variation on a theme, another type of experience he could put into his repertoire. The rest of the packet’s contents were poured on to Vasquez’s fingers when he was done, rubbed against Rhys’ entrance. Without much ceremony, he arranged Rhys’ legs into a more suitable position and guided his cock to his hole, rubbing the head against it, asserting pressure, but not pushing hard enough to penetrate. Such teasing made the younger man want to snark and tell Vasquez to stop procrastinating, his limits drifting very close into ‘yellow’ territory as it went on, but ultimately never quite reaching it. 

Though he managed to keep his impatience settled, Rhys couldn’t help the whimper that eventually escaped him, his gaze meeting the other man’s, eyes pleading for relief. Vasquez had never struck him as a merciful man, in business matters at least, but he did seem to take pity. Hands clamped down on Rhys’ wrists, pinning them to the desk. Pressure against his hole increased, the initial breach of Vasquez’s metal piercing a unique sensation until it tapered off into familiar territory. As the man’s cock sunk inside him at an even pace, he tried not to think of how his body was accommodating something of its size, afraid the stretch he felt in his muscles would turn into something more painful. In lieu of that, he let his eyelids sink low, his head falling back against the desk. A moan slipped loose from his lips when he felt Vasquez’s hips brush up against his own, the other man’s balls pressing against his ass. 

“I wasn’t planning on fucking you when I invited you up here,” Vasquez said, hips inching back. “You’ve been such an obedient boy, though. Very receptive where I didn’t expect you to be. I feel obligated to reward that kind of behavior.”

As if punctuating his words, Vasquez had nearly drawn himself all the way out before he drove back in with enough force to shift Rhys’ body upward. Rhys cried out, the other man’s cock striking sparks within him, causing them to ignite and burn with the ferocity of a starving predator. Again Vasquez did it, the sound of impact echoing like a gunshot, a streak of pain flaring up this time only to be razed to ash in internal flames. Soon Vasquez had found a rhythm, powerful and relentless, full of lustful vigor. Rhys forgot how to breathe at times, normal function flushed away to be replaced by autonomous reactions. He writhed every time Vasquez struck the sensitive bundle of cells deep within his anatomy, arms straining against the man’s grip as pleasure fissured him like the scar on Elpis. 

Noises erupted out of Rhys at random, from meager grunts to sounds that would have made him embarrassed if he was in any rational state. Above him, aside from his labored breathing, Vasquez remained quiet, his focus trained on Rhys’ reactions to the rough fucking, his eyes and expression brimming with intensity. Meeting that gaze once more, Rhys swallowed, throat working as if constricted. That look seemed to reach inside him, wrangle his mind. It was the look of boardroom showdowns, where pride and arrogance solidified into some formidable force aimed to subjugate the competition. Though he didn’t consider himself a pushover, maybe Rhys liked that concept a bit too much, as his muscles involuntarily clenched around Vasquez. The other man’s breath hitched, his teeth gritting. Rhys was sure he was trying to hold back other sounds he wanted to make, but didn’t get long to dwell on it. Hips pistoning even harder, Vasquez went into an apparent frenzy, slamming into Rhys with such force in each thrust that the collisions stung. Every sense thoroughly rattled, the younger man could only lay there being overwhelmed, gasping and moaning with the constant baragement. 

Underneath it all came the sensation of something potent building up, spreading its influence through his lower half and to the rest of his body, seeping into the parts of him that were mostly ignored. He could feel his muscles begin to seize, unable to move. The heartbeat in his ears became thundering, his cock throbbing in tandem, the vibrations against it having become dulled from prolonged exposure to them. Rhys felt like some spring-loaded mechanism, waiting for that moment in which the pressure would be released. It wouldn’t be long now. Just one more thrust against the perfect spot, one more push towards the edge.

Rhys bucked like a fiesty skag, yelling and whimpering when he finally came, hole clamping down once more on Vasquez like a vice. Thick, pearlescent ropes of semen erupted from his cock in powerful arcs, splattering his chest and stomach, one even hitting him on the chin. White noise filled his head, which thunked back, eyes staring at nothing but the ceiling. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing still audible. He was barely aware that Vasquez, though he’d taken the device off Rhys’ cock, continued to fuck him without abandon, Rhys’ body spasming with aftershocks every now and then, the other man struggling to keep his rhythm when he did. 

That, however, wouldn’t last long.

While Rhys was just starting to come back to himself, he felt Vasquez pull out, leaving him with a sudden sense of hollowness. Letting Rhys’ flesh wrist go, he fisted his cock, stroking and milking it with haste. The younger man’s gaze fell upon the sight just in time to see Vasquez’s abdominal muscles pull inward, his breath as sharp as a blade’s edge as he sucked it in. Seconds later he was struck by his orgasm, cum propelled across Rhys’ torso, painting him in even more of a mess. Post-coital bliss made him uncaring. Being covered in cum was fine by him as long as none of it got in his hair. Even when a short-of-breath and disheveled-looking Vasquez dipped a finger in the substance streaked across Rhys’ chest and pressed it against his lips, he could come up with no viable reason to protest. Sucking the appendage clean, the taste on the bitter side but still heady, he hummed in a satisfaction that ran as deep as marrow.

Rummaging sounds drifted to Rhys’ ears over time. Hands gripped at him, helping him up into a sitting position. Feeling boneless and relaxed, he nearly teetered over. The hands held him, though, kept him upright. Something plush was dragged along his jawline, then down his body, scrubbing at his skin to clean him.

“Do you want a blanket?” came Vasquez’s voice, sounding softer than it had all night. 

Trying to spot his clothes, suspecting he had no energy to put them back on at the moment, Rhys nodded. He was swaddled in a cushiony duvet, his hands drawing it tight to himself as he settled into its warm confines. Then Vasquez was lifting him, sitting back in his desk chair and arranging Rhys in a way that would keep his long, gangly frame comfortable. 

“I could get used to this kind of pampering,” Rhys murmured, a hand snaking out of his coverings to toy with one of Vasquez’s nipple rings. He felt the other man’s beard brush against his cheek, followed by the blunt edge of his nose. Vasquez nuzzled down along Rhys’ neck, giving him a nip below his tattoo.

“Is that so?” Vasquez pulled his head up so that he could look at the younger man. “Now, I know this wasn’t exactly the most intense it could have been. Sort of vanilla, in truth. But I’m still curious as to what you thought.”

“If that wasn’t that intense, I’m dying to know what is.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Maybe.” Rhys gave a strange half-grin, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Anyway, yeah, this was...well, I wasn’t expecting it, that’s for sure. A little weird, I guess. Not talking took some getting used to. Then there was the whole spanking part. I get why people like that, though. And of course the outfit‒ not gonna lie, the style does it for me.”

To accent his words, Rhys’ fingers moved to one of the straps of Vasquez’s harness, stroking the leather, tugging at it slightly.

“Got a thing for leatherwear? Is that why you came so hard?”

Heat crept up Rhys’ cheeks, burning hotter as it spread through his face and down his neck. Vaguely he was aware that getting embarrassed after Vasquez had already done so much to him was pointless, but it wasn’t as if he could help it. A head clouded by lust was no longer on his side.

“I may have been more than a little pent up,” he admitted in one breath.

“And I’m sure you’re glad you’re not anymore.” Vasquez’s gloved hand came to rest at the back of Rhys’ neck, fingers massaging the flesh there. “We make a pretty great team both in and out of work.”

“I can’t argue that. You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, Hugo, but it’s been worth it putting up with you.”

“Could say the same about you.”

Darting in, the younger man only intended to give Vasquez a quick peck on the lips. It seemed the other man had the same idea, though, as the meeting of their mouths came more forceful than either of them expected. 

They stayed locked like that for some time, neither in a rush to part ways.


End file.
